


Destruction of the Obstruction

by Noid



Category: Fear & Hunger
Genre: Tried to get my writing system going, body gore descriptions, enlightenment, i haven't actually seen any of the endings, so i kinda made one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 14:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20762213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noid/pseuds/Noid





	Destruction of the Obstruction

The dungeons of Fear & Hunger were notorious for its ruthless ways of dealing with prisoners. Cobblestone walls and dirt floors were forever stained in more than just gore. There were memories that were inlaiden in the deepest pieces of the conjoining hallways and many of these memories were the fading pictures of a life before coming to these dungeons. New ones were engraved through the body and the mind, forcing scars upon fleshy scar on the bodies of those who were brave enough to enter and continue to venture forth. And those who were brave enough to scavenge for everything and avoid damage by the beasts of the lair.

The Knight pulled herself forward, right arm throbbing with excruciating pain at the shoulder. Or at least... what was left of it. Behind her were the slow, aching footsteps of her partners. All of them she had met in the dungeons and all of them were sore, beaten and bruised. She didn't need to turn to look over her shoulder to know how they looked.

Ragnvaldr was one of them that looked the worst but that was generally because of the skills he had learned in life to persuade him to devour the dead. It was a survival instinct and he took it with a dead heart and a lack of empathy for the dead in his eyes. He had seen so much of it that he no longer was phased by the skeletons that writhed in the dead flesh that he ripped with his teeth and chewed heartily with his molars. 

Enki, a priest of darkspawn, walked with a straight face. His eyes were missing but that didn't stop him from summoning the dead when Ragnvaldr was done feasting. Despite that he needed to avoid infection, the dark priest kept his eyes open, revealing bleeding sockets of black ink that tried so hard to twitch towards a speaker, a noise, or even a sight. It was easy to catch him scratching at the drying flesh, plucking out his eyelashes. D'arce had tried to get him to stop but he hadn't done so, saying he was fine.

Finally, the mercenary. He walked with a limp as he had a swollen ankle and his back was nearly on the verge of a fracture after being tossed into a wall. He looked the most alive out of any one of them. There was a grit to his teeth and a furrow to his brow as he stumbled, the outlander supporting him with a broad shoulder and good fighting arm. 

The knight wanted to sigh in defeat as she crawled up to the portcullis she had come in from. The mist, as thick as churned butter, greeted them. It rolled over their injured skin, kissed their tear-stained faces and applied a coaxing hand over their injured minds. Neither one of them liked it, as soft touches indicating rotten flesh or oncoming death. There was no peace in their mind anymore and there wasn't much that they could feel comfortable in now. Even the light itself was blinding, indicating that it was at least dawn that emitted this cold fog.

"Is it night time?" the dark priest whispered, tongue dry and his instincts still forging quiet words. 

D'arce shook her head despite his blind state. She responded quickly. "No." She, too, could barely gather up her own voice to a volume. "I think it's daytime."

"A trick?" the outlander rumbled, his grey eyes scanning to and fro. As per usual, he looked ready for a fight, but didn't they all?

"No. The horse and the carriage is here." The knight looked at the half-eaten carcass. The crows had long since gotten fat from the splurge of meat from the deceased creature. "This is the entryway, for certain." She looked over her shoulder and upwards, eyeing the locked portcullis that loomed above them like teeth.

The mercenary heaved a heavy sigh. It almost sounded like he was ready to cry but he had nothing in him to mourn for. "We are out. We survived... But at what cost?"

Visions of gore and lust made the knight. Everytime she blinked she could see the ungodly beasts swaying closer, see the appendages flail, the corpses swinging from fraying ropes- the smell, oh _God_ the smell of it all as they struggled to avoid torture of the harshest quality. There were bugs all over her skin, her pores eaten through to provide eggs that would burst through her womb like the child of the anti-saints. It was possible, entirely plausible, and it was nothing short of the horrors that they had witnessed in the caverns that echoed moans of the dead, the dying, the lustful and the victims of it all. She could smell the rot, seeing the plague and death, hear the snarling and the growling in her ear before-

A hand firmly grasped her ironclad shoulder and all of the breath that was escaping her lungs came collapsing back. Her hyperventilation ceased quickly but she leaned on the dark priest who had no qualms in her added weight. 

"Rondon awaits us," he breathed, staring off into the woods. The howl of wolves called to them and hands flew to sword hilts and shields. 

It wasn't over. Not yet. 


End file.
